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Miss Mara Mayhem's Diary

Monthly Archives: October 2011

Perhaps a Mistress needn’t state it, but obviously there are a lot of retarded types out there proclaiming to be ‘truly submissive’ & ‘slaves’ that fail to live up to the task. When I, your Mistress, tell you (dunce slave), to do or get or follow through on something, you are expected to do as you’re told, and not keep Mistress waiting. Where’s the service in ‘servitude’ if you fail to comply?

When you tell this particular Mistress that you wish to obey, but then don’t live up to your word, you are immediately dismissed. No buts, ifs, whys, or maybes. I have no mercy or tolerance for such peons. I expect you to live up to the standards I possess. Clearly, if you can’t complete a simple task, you’re indicating to Me that you don’t truly respect and adore your Mistress. Unacceptable.

Good slaves comply. Good slaves are punctual, respectful, and don’t talk back with a million excuses (which only reveals that you’re an insincere bag of garbage that doesn’t deserve any Superior Female’s attention). Good slave are rewarded. Yes, even a dog gets a treat when he obeys, so why shouldn’t you obey? Think that by being defiant you’re proving something? you have nothing to prove, as you’ve indicated many a time when you knelt on the floor, begging for mercy, My attention, or heaven forbid, the chance to release. No. By being disobedient, you prove only that you clearly are beyond Worthless to Me, and undeserving of My time & attentions.

Keep that in mind, should you declare yourself indentured to Me, and fail miserably. I know My Superiority, as well as the level of authority that I possess, and your failing to endure or truly crumble yourself in servitude is nobody’s fault except your own. That’s the worst punishment of them all, being ignored. Keep that in mind.

When My victim walked through the door of the Dungeon, little did he realize what was in store.

Once he was situated and undressed, I wrapped him around his legs and chest with saran wrap on the gigantic medical table. With his legs spread on each beam, I could walk between and examine the family jewels. A little pink shoe lace, lots of tiny pink clothespins, kabob skewers, and a tiny flogger were My tools of choice for this scene.

Wrapping his cock nicely in a manner that will allow it to unravel in a helicopter like fashion was amusing. Placing the tiny clothespins on various alignments of his balls was even better fun. Finally, flogging and poking and prodding the entire nether region was delightful! The squirms were priceless.

Sitting on his face, decked out in a vinyl garter and bra (black, of course!), I managed to asphyxiate him with various positionings that would include the vinyl. What a lovely sight!

Have I provided you with enough imagery? It was a lovely scene. And one I would do again in a heart-beat.

In an age where we practically all are some spotlight, the art of keeping a secret has almost become lost.

In the Golden Age of Network sites and GPS devices, stalkers have become more prevalent. We all have become stalkers, in some respect. Let’s face it. How many of us haven’t taken a peak at an old fling from way back when on Facebook, wondering how they turned out after all this time? How many of us haven’t subscribed to a background checking site, just to take more precaution? The internet has magnified and bastardized everything.

Now, granted. There are positives to having so much accessible information. I wouldn’t be writing this blog, for instance, for a vast audience. My exposure as a domme would be subjected to the back of alternative magazines and phone books, like in times past.